"He'll pass," said Miss Marchrose, laughing. "He's a dreadful child."
"Iris, dear," said Lady Rossiter softly, "when do you have your lesson?"
Thus obliquely recalled to the immediate duties of her state of life, Miss Marchrose conducted her pupil to a small classroom where the Remington machine awaited her, and in front of which Iris took her seat with obvious and immense satisfaction in the flashing of her engagement-ring as her small hands moved backward and forward on the keyboard.
"If you don't have to stay with her while she's practising, I should like to have a look at your own office," said Lady Rossiter very sweetly. "I so often wonder if you don't find it cold in this weather."
"It is very cold indeed, but as I keep the window wide open, that's my own fault," Miss Marchrose answered brusquely.
But she led the way into her room and prepared to shut the window, which was, as she had said, wide open.
"Oh, but don't! There can never be too much of God's own fresh air to please me," Lady Rossiter exclaimed, at the same time fastening the high collar of her fur coat. "Besides, I know you get so little out-of-doors you must want all the sunshine possible. Tell me, do you like your work here?"
"Yes."
"That's rather wonderful of you. Mr. Easter, our agent, you know, and also my very dear friend, tells me that you work so well and conscientiously. I am sure you like working for Mr. Easter: everyone does."
"Yes."